A World Without Innocence
by WhispersofBliss
Summary: This is simply a tale of how District 1 tribute Peridot Angel came to be in Sparrowcries's Shattered Memories SYOT. Can be read on its own, but makes more sense with the main story (at least reaping). Peridot's life has definitely had its ups and downs before she enters the Hunger Games.


**A one-shot, maybe two-shot of how Peridot Angel came to be the person she is in SparrowCries's 61st Hunger Games ****_Shattered Memories_**

**FYI Rated a high T **

* * *

I don't really remember much about my first birthday. I just know that my mother had a baby shower-like party for me. All my gifts were clothes, toys, blankets. And more clothes.

A distant friend of some relative's let their two-year old peek into my crib. That was when I saw Sterling for the first time. I took in his wavy cherub hair, his freckled nose, big gray-green eyes adorned into chubby cheek. And I was a goner.

He and I gooed and cooed at each other like a bunch of silly babies. It was rather embarrassing to be honest, but we were too fleshy balls of pink that didn't know better.

But when his mother grabbed his hand and led him away, I cried.

They fed me rich milk and baby food. They burped me. My father had even been bullied into changing my diaper.

Sterling left. I didn't smile for the rest of the party.

By the time my first birthday was over, my mother had received more presents than me. Luxury gowns for 'beautiful, sultry, young mothers'.

Happy birthday, Peridot. So adorable. So cute. So.._.innocent_.

* * *

When I was three years old, Sterling came to my tea party. My mother arranged a colorful round table, draped with a pink tablecloth and white lace. She had a pretty tea set for guests to use and lots of milk, cake, and cookies for us to eat. It looked to be a scrumptious afternoon.

One by one, the little guests came. Heart Mendale, Quartz Maple, Denzi Sapphire. They were all my mother's friends' daughters. I knew Quartz and Denzi, but Heart was a whole year older than me. Sterling's age.

It was a fun party and didn't end up in brat fights as usual tea parties did. Heart had a pretty pink dress dotted with hearts. I worn a pale cream gown with ruffles and a pink tiara.

"I like your tiara," said Sterling, grinning at me.

I blushed for the first time.

We played tag afterwards, dresses and frilly shoes forgotten.

I blushed for the second time when Sterling brought me a balloon. It wasn't flying very high and it was used and old and wrinkly. But it was green, the color of usual peridots and it had said "YOU ARE MY DIAMOND" on it.

I gave Sterling a present, too. It was his turn to blush as his hand covered the part of his cheek I pecked.

Just an innocent gesture of friendship. Nothing more.

* * *

I carried Sterling's balloon with me everywhere I went.

When I was four, though, and at a picnic with my family and my new brother, a gust of wind blew the balloon from my hands.

I chased after it for ten minutes.

The last I saw of it was the green fading into the blue, blue sky. I hope it danced with the clouds. Everybody is happy in the innocence of the cloud castles in kingdoms in the skies.

* * *

I'm five years old again. Sterling is six. We're running, chasing each other, laughing like maniacs and madmen of science. People are giving us looks. The adults are glaring at us. We pay them no heed, lost in our own world.

"I'm going to get you!" He yells to me.

"In your dreams!" I cry, shrieking with laughter.

His grubby little fingers try to grab onto a bundle of the brown locks fluttering behind me and misses.

"Ha! Told ya you'd miss!" I taunt, skidding to a stop. Bad move. He's right behind me and he reaches for me. He couldn't skid to a stop quick enough, and soon both of us were tumbling through the streets and into various people.

We laugh over their complaints, we giggle over their stares. My world was one block wide and it consisted of only flowers, rainbows, gemstones, and Sterling, my best friend.

* * *

I'm seven years old. Sterling and I play on opposite sides of the playground. It's divided up: girls on the left, boys the right. Kind of like the Academy Mommy signed me up for. ("It'll get you ready for the most spectacular fashion show in on earth! We'll have to start off simple, of course. Ruffled skirts and sequined jackets it is!")

Sometimes I can't help but look at Sterling playing with his new friends. Has he forgotten me? I want to go over and join them, but the girls tell me not to.

I wave to Sterling. He waves back. I know I stand out in the sea of blonde hair. That's all naive little me knew.

* * *

I'm eight years old. I count on the candles on my cake. And again. And again. I don't hear my parents telling me to blow them out. I don't hear my friends cheering me on, eager for cake. I simply look into the center of a candle, the depth of the flame.

I wonder when Sterling will get here?

* * *

I'm nine years old. I just got promoted at the Academy. I get a new lunchtime. And it looks like I'll have to find new lunch buddies to sit with.

They serve my favorite at lunch, white oatmeal sprinkled with sesame seeds, smoked bacon oozing with maple syrup, and chocolate cake at lunch. While looking for a place to sit, I spot Sterling somewhere. He looks my way. I wave. He doesn't see me.

Or maybe he pretended not to see me. I notice that none of the kids sitting at his table are girls.

* * *

I'm eleven years old. I've officially completed a good portion of training at the Academy. I even beat Heart Mendale's record. I'm about to move up again.

Mother makes me a new dress. Father congratulates me and takes me out for ice cream. My brother makes me a card which I toss into the trash without reading.

Sterling doesn't return my phone call.

* * *

I'm twelve years old, witnessing my first Reaping, the little drop of blood on my new dress completely forgotten.

I watch, fascinated, as teenagers shove people out of their way to be the first to reach the stage. A speedy seventeen year old girl reaches the stage first, along with a huge eighteen year old boy. They nearly knock over the crazily-dressed Escort, which earns hoots from their friends. The other eighteen year olds glare daggers. They know they will never get a chance to bring honor to our district.

The tributes' names are announced. Carat Glyendale and Ruby Lenpolworth.

They have the dominant genes of our district, blonde hair and green eyes. The boy looks a lot like Sterling. The girl looks nothing like me.

Each suppresses a devious grin as they shake hands, sizing each other up. And then they share a kiss, which makes the district erupt into cheers and applause.

I walk away from the Reaping, my mind made up. I will not be pathetic like those eighteen year olds who failed to volunteer. I will win.

The district will one day clap and cheer for me. Imagine how proud Sterling will be?!

* * *

I'm thirteen years old in a purple silk gown at my second Reaping. My brother hovers with my parents, not yet of reaping age. Sterling stands near his friend.

Why is it that whenever I go up to him and say hi, he turns away? He says hi back, but in a voice so quiet that I have to strain to hear him. Is he embarrassed of me? Could there be anyone who'd be embarrassed of me?

But why? What did I do?

This year's volunteers are Benz Farrett and Daisy Mendale. They smirk at each other and shake hands confidently.

Daisy's younger sister, Heart Mendale, turns her and winks at Sterling. At _Sterling_! My blood boils. This year's Reapings are over.

Suddenly, I feel the urge to see Daisy die in the bloodbath.

In the Academy, I hit all my targets for the first time.

* * *

I'm fourteen years old and I just got promoted to the top of my class, which means I move up again. I've started wearing more makeup and less clothing.

Some of the boys notice. They come talk to me. They hug me for no reason.

Heart's seat has been empty ever since the last Hunger Games, which a boy from 4 won. I take her place.

I gasp as the boy next to me turns around. Sterling, a diamond stud pierced in one ear. "Hey, Peridot," he says as if we were old friends, "Long time no see."

And I think,_ yeah, for sure_.

His tongue is smooth as he talks to me, and laps out of his mouth every once in awhile to wet his lips.

When he leans forward to kiss me, I let him. I'm thinking so many things at once, like oh my god this is my first kiss and I feel dizzy and it feels good and I like it so much and I'm so glad Sterling's back again.

That night, my friends Denzi Sapphire and Quartz Maple came to me with news. Heart had been kicked out of the Academy because she'd been caught doing something she wasn't supposed to do after school.

That night, I dance around my room wearing all of my finest jewelry.

* * *

I'm fifteen years old and dressed in the finest purple velvet gown money can buy. I'm all decked out with sterling silver and peridot jewelry. An angel-shaped hairpin is locked into my hair, pinned up in a fine, messy bun.

My father smiles, although I can't help but notice a hint of bitterness. He hugs me very gently. My brother claps and tells me I'm a beautiful sister and the best sister anyone could ever ask for. My mother cries happy tears and takes a million photos. I'm relieved when Denzi and her date come to pick me up. Ever since Quartz won the Hunger Games last year, she's stopped talking to me. I heard she chopped her hair off and moved in with another Victor. Wench.

The gym has been transformed. Glittery sequin balls dangle from the ceiling and emit colorful rays of light and glitter. Couples sway to the tune. They glide across the floor. Everybody is with somebody.

I hang with Denzi and her date until it's time for the couples dance. I stand at the fruit punch in the corner in the shadows, staring at all the gliding couples and their glowing beams. I scowl at them. And wish for the first time in my life to be somebody else.

When my date finally arrives, it's half an hour before the event is over. Denzi and her date were nice, finding an excuse to stay around but I waved them off, telling them I'd be fine. I try to stay out of the way of the cleanup crews.

When my date arrives, I've forgotten his name. He's forgotten mine, too, but he doesn't say so as he grins broadly and asks to dance.

Being next to the punch bowl was convenient. I watch, satisfied, as he stands there dripping wet. When he turns to walk out, I see the hickey on his neck drenched in ' an all-natural flavored fruit'.

On my way out the door, Sterling comes up to me.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey," I say. "What are you doing here?"

"My date threw a fit randomly, and left. I think she fell into one of the diamond-dusted gutters, though. It started raining." He grins. "What about you?"

"Date showed up late with hickey on neck. Walked out dripping in punch."

"What an asshole. You showed him! You go, girl."

I laugh. "Well, I'm going to-"

"May I have this dance?"

"What?"

"They're playing the last song. May I have this dance?"

I look into his eyes, which looked like two peridot gems placed under sunlight. "You may."

* * *

Sterling walks me home through the garden with the gazebo. It's after sunset, which means the fireflies were out and the diamond lamps were on. I walk in front of him, lost in thought, so I didn't notice when he stopped.

His hands were deep in his pockets. "You know, Peridot, I had a great day, but I had an even better night..."

I stopped, too. "Me, too, Sterling."

He was about to say something else when we hear rustling in a nearby bush. Pushing aside some branches, I see my date, eyes closed, mumbling in his slumber.

Twenty minutes later, he was staggering home with bruises and a purple eye in his cheap suit, torn to rags.

Sterling and I didn't have anymore awkward silence for the rest of the night. We chatted and laughed all the way back to my house, where he bade me goodnight.

And then he kissed my cheek. So I kissed his. But I missed, kissing him directly on the lips instead.

I was relieved that Sterling had left before I entered the house and my mother shouted, "AWW, TELL US ABOUT YOUR FIRST KISS, MY BABY GIRL!"

* * *

"Say it again."

The sun was setting very low in the orange-pink sky, like a giant topaz bathing in rose petals being kissed by starlight. In the village some of the houses already have their neon porch lights on. Their diamond roofs are sprinkled with crystal dust that puts on a spectacular show during the evening.

District 1 has very few trees and woodland, so Sterling and I are in a pavilion tucked in a shady corner of flowers. Sterling is laying comfortably on the painted floor and I am sprawled across his lap. His green eyes glitter with mischief as he looks at me. "What do you want me to say?"

"I hate you," I snap, trying not to laugh.

His grin only stretches wider. "Okay, _I hate you_, Peridot! There. Is that better?"

"That's not what I meant!" I laugh, giving him a little kick. He dodges it and smirks at me. I roll my eyes, earning myself an open-mouthed kiss. I kiss him back until he finally pulls away, gasping for breath.

"You really need a mint, don't you, Peridot," he says, giving me an innocent grin.

I pout and pretend to smack the side of his head. "And you need a cosmetic surgeon and years of therapy, you graphite head."

He pretends to clutch his heart. "Oh, you cruel monster! You have shattered my sensitive heart for eternity..."

"Hey, better you than me," I reply with a sassy smile on my face. Then we kiss until the sun goes down, and by the bathing of moonlight, I whisper into his ear as we finally pull away gasping for air, "Say it. Say it again."

"I love you."

And then his arms engulf me, and we lay outside watching the starry night sky glitter with winking stars. Sterling wouldn't give me another kiss until I said three certain words back to him.

* * *

"Sterling, I'm scared."

"Shhh."

"Wait...Sterling..."

"You're so beautiful, Peridot."

"Wow, you're an amazing kisser..."

"Damn, Peridot. You're an amazing girl."

"You're amazing, too, Sterling, but I'm not so sure about this...you were my first kiss, and now our kiss is getting more...intense..."

"Don't you know that I would never want to hurt you? Babe, I love you."

"Love you, too."

"Can I kiss you more?"

"Um..."

"God, you're thin and gorgeous."

"Aww. Go ahead and kiss me, Sterling."

* * *

I used to think that if I pressed my hands to my eyelids really hard, I could force myself to stop crying. No such luck.

I told my family I want to be alone tonight. And they accepted it like the family they are. My mother may be a clueless fashion freak. My father may be an uptight man who spends too much time worrying over small things. My brother may be a wimp. But they understand. They know I need to be alone.

I gaze into the crackling fire. I watch their flames dance, hungry for something intense. I once had a hunger like that too. Sterling.

I seethe with rage as my torturous mind flashes into a picture of Sterling and that girl Heart Mendale. Behind a tree. Eating face as if their lives depended on it. Her legs struggling to wrap around his torso. His greedy hands tugging at her clothes.

I want to rip every inch of her to shreds and feed them to the neighbor's pet goat. I want that picture to burn as a forgotten memory. I don't ever want to see, hear, or think anything of it again.

When they noticed me, they pretended they didn't. And the next day, Sterling wouldn't talk to me. Or the next. Or the one after that. By then, I realized what I should've, a long, long, time ago.

I want to watch him die. I want Sterling to die and I want him to suffer, slowly and agonizingly as I sit by the fire now, consumed in my own tears. With a shriek of fury, I yank off the locket Sterling gave me for my sixth birthday.

I found out that night that golden lockets made the fire nice and toasty and lasts all night long.

* * *

I'm sixteen years old. Sterling had volunteered for this year's Hunger Games. Aww, didn't he make the most precious tribute? Honey curls, gray-green eyes, and that boyishly-cute freckled nose. All dressed up and handsome. My little Sterling was all grown up.

He did great during the Interviews. And he got an impressive score of 9 in Training. Plus, I'm guessing he was a favorite among the crowd at the Opening Ceremony.

But on the morning of the Games, he didn't make it past the Bloodbath. He shamed District 1. Everyone was talking about it.

Except for me. I listened. And I heard. I knew. And I smiled.

You did a great job, Sterling. You did good.

But good isn't perfect, Sterling. Goodness is nothing compared to perfection. Because in the end, you still only got a 9. You still had something missing.

And don't let looks fool you, honey. Because you're not as innocent as you looked at all.

* * *

I completed my training early. I graduated one year earlier than average tributes did. My trainers called me special.

Awww. I like being called special. I like being special. I would like to be innocent, too. But no one can be innocent in this world. Sterling showed me this. Everyone is either too corrupt, too selfish, too filled with desire. Innocence is only an illusion most imagine themselves as. Because they want to be good and pure. They can't be, so they dream they are.

They think I'm nice and sweet and good pure. They think that little Peridot Angel is as innocent as her name sounds. They think that I'm tame.

I'm not tame. No. Not after Sterling messed up my life. Now Sterling's dead. And I could care less. In fact, I cheered when he died. I'd been avenged when he died.

People think they're so innocent, and that others are so sweet and just and innocent. Let them see how wrong their twisted illusions are. Let them see how far their minds are made up. No one in this world possesses a single drop of innocent blood in this screwed-up world.

And I'm going to show them that. I'm going to be their messenger. They must learn their lesson. They must know. If they depend too much on their imagined innocence, they will just hurt themselves eventually. Call me whatever you'd like, but I do not like seeing the innocent get hurt. That is, of course, if innocence existed, which it does not.

My name is Peridot Angel, I'm seventeen years old this year, and I'm volunteering for this year's Hunger Games.

Oh, one more thing. I'm going to win, even if it kills me.


End file.
